<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Take me through the darkness by jaybaybay</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093068">Take me through the darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybaybay/pseuds/jaybaybay'>jaybaybay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A man after midnight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Character Death, Drug Addiction, Gen, Growing Up, Human Experimentation, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Season/Series 01, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Bonding, Telekinetic Klaus Hargreeves, Temporary Character Death, Whump, but is klaus so again no surprise, but its ben so its no surprise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:33:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybaybay/pseuds/jaybaybay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Number 4 was different from the other children in the academy.</p>
<p>Different, not in the way that Number 7 was ordinary, but in the way that he confronted his extraordinary abilities. With the ability to commune with the dead and levitate at only four years of age, Number 4 was the only one of the children to produce a secondary ability and had proven himself to arguably be the most powerful of the bunch. </p>
<p>But, of course, there was an issue that set little Number 4 sticking out like a sore thumb- one thing that truly set Number 4 apart from his siblings.</p>
<p>Number 4 was afraid.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Klaus Hargreeves &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A man after midnight [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>174</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The numbers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi all! </p>
<p>Just a few things before we get on to the story. No, this is not a marvel fic so if that's what you came here looking for go back to my page and pick another story. Yes, this is an Umbrella Academy fic ,woo!! and my first one might I add, so apologizes in advance if the characters seem a little OOC.</p>
<p>Now, this story is going to cover some heavy topics. I wanted a fic that displayed what life was like for the Hargreeves growing up in the academy under Reginalds rule, specifically what life would have been like for Klaus, and even more specifically if he had his powers from the comic as well as the show. </p>
<p>THIS FIC IS RATED MATURE FOR A REASON!!! <br/>some of the topics we will touch on are:<br/>- Child abuse<br/>- Non consensual as well as recreational drug use<br/>- Major character death (Ben)<br/>- Implied rape of a minor<br/>please, if any of these trigger you do not read. Your safety is more important than the entertainment you'd receive from this story. </p>
<p>Lastly, this fic will have a sequel that revovles around the plot of season one, so stay tuned!!</p>
<p>Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reginald Hargreeves was said to be an eccentric billionaire. </p>
<p>Which was true of course, but a man was nothing if he wasn’t observant, and when Reginald formally purchased all seven of the children he would use to form his elite academy, that characteristic never changed. To him, it was a simple matter of watching and waiting, which he did with exprestice. </p>
<p>For the first three years of the children’s lives, anyway. </p>
<p>It was no secret that Reginald detested children, even ones with special abilities, he found absolutely repulsive. So as infants, he preferred to watch and conduct his preliminary tests from a distance, allowing the hired caretakers to do their jobs until they met their unfortunate demise or until he found no more use for them. </p>
<p>When the children reached a suitable age, Reginald decided it was time to work one on one with their abilities, observing the powers they displayed from a closer range with the assistance of his newly created Grace, and his older creation, Pogo. </p>
<p>At three years of age, Number 6 and Number 7 had already proven to be most volatile. With the frequency to lash out with easily aggravated emotions in the form of tentacles and soundwaves, Reginald saw their usefulness and ranked them lowest on his scale. </p>
<p>Number 1 seemed most eager to hold Reginalds attention, swelling with pride at any signal of praise and often fighting with lesser Number 2 to see who could gather it first. Bickering often turned into minor stab wounds and bruises deeper than a child should be able to create, when both were in the presence of their adoptive parent. Reginald observed their dynamic and placed them at the top of his scale, knowing that this way their powers would be much easier to maintain, and control. </p>
<p>Number 5 appeared to be maturing quicker than his siblings, developing a personality of ambition and arrogance. The boy was cunning and displayed a large objection to authority, often blinking out of training sessions and his nursey in the late hours of the night. Reginald, having witnessed the event on multiple occasions, ranked the child fifth on his scale. </p>
<p>Number 3 could nearly be presumed to be a normal child if it wasn’t for her ability to alter reality with her words. A power she discovered the usage for at a young age, often rumouring her nannies to give her treats after dinner or extra play time with Number 1. Reginald found her to be controllable and ranked her third on his scale.</p>
<p>That left Number 4, who Reginald observed with the utmost attention. </p>
<p>Number 4 was different from the other children in the academy.</p>
<p>Different, not in the way that Number 7 was now ordinary, but in the way that he confronted his extraordinary abilities. With the ability to commune with the dead and levitate at only four years of age, Number 4 was the only one of the children to produce a secondary ability and had proven himself to arguably be the most powerful of the bunch. </p>
<p>But, of course, there was an issue that set little Number 4 sticking out like a sore thumb- one thing that truly set Number 4 apart from his siblings.</p>
<p>Number 4 was afraid.</p>
<p>Afraid of what exactly, Reginald did not know, but he would not tolerate weakness in his academy, especially from the one child who had shown the greatest potential. Reginald would extinguish this idiotic fear as one would douse wildfire from spreading to the other brush in the forest. </p>
<p>If Number 4 wanted to be afraid, then Reginald would give him something worth fearing. </p>
<p>.<br/>.<br/>.</p>
<p>Number 4 kicked his feet under the table with poorly restrained excitement as he sat at the breakfast table alongside his six other siblings and his father. </p>
<p>He was bouncing, buzzing with joy as he shoveled his oatmeal and blueberries into his mouth, nearly choking on his fruit as he tried swallowing before chewing his food. Mother had arranged his food in his bowl so it appeared to smile upwards at him, reflecting his joyous mood that he knew was showing on his face. It showed on all their faces.</p>
<p>Some old nanny was wailing with sorrow over the shoulder of Number 6 who sat beside him. Her stomach had been torn open and her insides were emptying themselves onto the floor, squelching and squirming with every intake of her heaving phantom lungs. Typically the sight would put Number 4s appetite down the drain, but nothing could dampen his spirit today. </p>
<p>Because today was his eighth birthday. </p>
<p>Well, his, and all his siblings birthday too, and Mother had said she had a special gift waiting for all of them. </p>
<p>Today, he would be getting a name. </p>
<p>The thought of having a real name elicited a feeling as good as play time on Sundays or the candy that Number 5 would steal from the kitchen after curfew. The very idea was like electricity in his bones and ants in his pants, and Number 4 couldn’t wait any longer. </p>
<p>Before he could stop himself, he swung his leg upwards a little too far and kicked the underside of the table, rattling everyone's dishes and earning everyone's attention. </p>
<p>“Number four!” His father's voice was like cold hard steel and Number 4 froze stiff in his seat, eyes blown wide. “You will cease your inconsolable twitching at once, or do you need to be excused from meal times for the remainder of the day?” </p>
<p>Number 4 swallowed hard as he crossed his legs underneath himself and shook his head hastily. “No, sir.” He squeaked under the weight of the glare his father wore, feeling as if the man could see under his skin the longer he stared. His father didn’t turn away until Number 4 could feel heat spreading up his cheeks and across his nose and soon Number 1 and Number 3 were snickering at the sight of their humiliated sibling. </p>
<p>Number 4 cast his eyes downwards. Suddenly his bowl of oatmeal didn’t look so happy anymore and his appetite had all but left him. He sat back in his seat with a sigh as the ghost next to Number 6 wailed again. The woman was starting to get on his nerves. </p>
<p>In his annoyance, he made the mistake of turning to look at Number 7 who carried an entourage of broken bodies with her wherever she went. Number 4 always wondered why she carried almost more spirits than their father, but never questioned his queries outloud for fear of discipline. </p>
<p>She was only ordinary afterall. </p>
<p>He tried not to stare at the ghosts for more than a second, knowing that if they realized that he could see them, they would start to scream. Unfortunately for Number 4, he stared for a second too long, because the next thing he knew, the ghost of a woman with her head twisted backwards flew through the table, latched onto his shoulders and <em>screeched</em>. </p>
<p>Number 4 pushed back from the table as he cried out in surprise. The woman's hands burned his flesh with icy malice where she gripped him, and out of fear for his life Number 4 blindly released a wave of power, hands flickering bright blue as the chandelier bulb exploded and everyone's plates on the opposite side of the table went soaring across the room. </p>
<p>The screaming stopped. </p>
<p>Number 4 was reeling from the shock of it all. He shuddered uncontrollably at the accidental use of his powers and sat stiff as a board as he worked on prying his eyes back open, one at a time. </p>
<p>Number 5, Number 2, and Number 1 were all wearing their oatmeal and were shooting Number 4 looks of varying lethal degrees. There was broken glass all over the table and in his food- Number 3 was picking some shards from her hair. </p>
<p>As he looked around the table, Number 4 knew he was dead meat... but the sight of his siblings covered in oatmeal was hilarious and he couldn’t stop the giggling fit that was building up in his chest. Number 2 threw a blueberry at him, plunking him right between the eyes, hitting the switch that released his mirth.</p>
<p>“Four, stop. This isn’t funny.” Number 1 whined and Number 4’s giggles broke out into full blown laughter. It was an accident, and after he explained himself he was sure they’d be laughing about it too. Besides, everyone looked really funny when they were angry, especially Number 5. </p>
<p>A large hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted him out of his chair and onto his feet. </p>
<p>Everyone, but his father he supposed.</p>
<p>“Your insolence is unacceptable, Number four!” Number 4 hurried to keep up with his father as he began to march him out of the dining room and up the stairs to the bedrooms, tight grip never relenting against the nape of his neck. </p>
<p>“Why is that when requested to demonstrate the extent of your abilities during training hours you are unable to conjure a single spirit…” Number 4 felt tears well up in his eyes as his father's hand on his neck started to become painful. “...Lift any object from the floor…” They turned away from the living quarters and towards the dark room at the end of the hall used specifically for Number 4’s training sessions. “...Or prove your worth to this academy in any shape or form.” </p>
<p>They reached the end of the hall, and Reginald pushed the large oak door open with his free hand, practically tossing Number 4 inside with the other. “Yet, when the simple request of silence is in practice, you decide to destroy my decor!” </p>
<p>Number 4 stumbled inside the dark room with the force of his father's shove, tears that had been sitting in his eyes spilling over and staining his pale skin. “It was an accident, Dad…” Number 4 whimpered as he wiped at his eyes, flinching at the silhouette of his infuriated father standing rigid in the doorway, surrounded by the wisps of lives taken in vain. “I- I got startled, that’s all.” </p>
<p>The backhand came quicker than Number 4 had been expecting. His father may have struck him before, but the pain was still just as sharp. “You will refrain from making pointless excuses.” Number 4’s breath hitched as he sucked in air through his nose, face still turned to the side, reeling from the shock of the slap. “Look at me.” His father demanded, and Number 4 pulled his head forward, eyes downcast, afraid of what his father would do next.</p>
<p>The hand that had previously been used to cause harm was now under his chin, forcing him to look upright. “You will learn to face whatever it is you fear and look it directly in the eyes.” Number 4 felt his lower lip tremble as his father towered over top of him, face encapsulated in the shadows of the training area. “Lest you shall continue to be my greatest disappointment.”</p>
<p>Number 4 swallowed his apology as his father turned on his heel and made for the door. “You will remain here until I return. Is that understood?” </p>
<p>“Yes sir.” Number 4 replied, voice cracking. His father didn’t spare him a second glance as he shut the door behind himself, shutting Number 4 inside and casting him into darkness. </p>
<p>Number 4 wasn’t scared of the dark, for he could already see the things lurking inside in the light. Luckily for him, the ghosts had evacuated the room when his father had left, though occasionally the odd wandering spirit would find its way to this room and Number 4 would have to try his best to ignore its cries of misery. </p>
<p>There were plenty of spirits in the academy, none of which were friendly or pleasant to talk with, though when he was much smaller he could remember speaking with some of the caretakers that had been in charge of Number 6. They hadn’t been angry despite the fact that they had been horribly mutilated, in fact, they seemed pleased that he could see them and thanked him for helping ease their spirits into the light where they could rest in peace. </p>
<p>That wasn’t the case anymore. </p>
<p>The spirits that remained in this plane of existence for longer than a few days turned sour quickly, decaying minds looped into their own personal vendettas lost in time. </p>
<p>There was a short period when Number 4 wanted to help them, send them off to a better place where they could rest and be at peace. But the spirits his father tasked him with conjuring were often terrifying with their threats and promises of bodily harm to him and his family. His attempts at banishing them had been buried under the fear of their statements made true, and he had yet to successfully do it on purpose. </p>
<p>Friendliness was a forgien concept to the dead.</p>
<p>Number 4 lowered himself onto his hands and knees as he felt around in the darkness for the center of the room where his father had set up the low table with his Ouija Board and candles. His hands came into contact with the familiar surface and he sat himself cross legged in front of the set up. </p>
<p>A ghost of a man with a slit throat drifted through the wall to his left, glowing faintly as he dragged his feet along the wood flooring and Number 4 sighed at his image. The man caught sight of his staring and attempted to speak, gargling and spitting blood up onto his tattered clothing when no words came out. </p>
<p>Number 4 hung his head and closed his eyes. “Go away.” He commanded under his breath, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to kick start his powers. </p>
<p>Nothing happened, and the man's noises grew louder. Chortling and gagging on laughter as he watched Number 4’s feeble efforts to send him away. Number 4’s heart rate began to pick up its pace as panic started to lance through his veins, breaths shortening as he opened his eyes to find the man staggering closer to him. </p>
<p>“Go away…” Number 4 pleaded in the face of his horrors. “Please, <em>please</em>, go away.”</p>
<p>A familiar flash of blue and a faint pop announced the entrance of Number 5, and had Number 4 turning away from the ghost taunting him. </p>
<p>“You talking to yourself again, or another one of those ghosts you claim you see.” </p>
<p>Number 4 grinned towards the sound of his brother's voice, mood lightening significantly. “Fivey! How’d you know I was in here?” </p>
<p>“Well it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, that’s for sure.” Number 5 shuffled around in the darkness as he spoke. “I checked your room and when you weren’t there I figured there was only one other place Dad would take you if he was pissed.” The shuffling abruptly stopped. “Where are you by the way, and why is it so freaking dark in here?” </p>
<p>Number 4 giggled as the ghost of the man finally turned away, opting to stand in the corner instead of over his shoulder. “Follow my voice, dear brother.” Something made contact with Number 4’s knee and he reached upwards to tug on Number 5’s shorts. “I’m right here, stupid. And Dad likes it dark in here, says it helps with my powers or something.” </p>
<p>Number 5 sat down next to his brother with a scoff. “Yeah, that was a nice stunt you pulled there at breakfast. Even Mom looked upset that you broke the chandelier, dipshit.” </p>
<p>“Hey, it wasn’t my fault! Some old ghost decided to grab me…” He shivered at the memory. “I hate it when they do that.” Number 4 paused as he thought back on what his brother had said. “What’s a dipshit?” </p>
<p>“It’s a new curse word I learned, d’you like it?” </p>
<p>“Dipshit…” Number 4 tasted the word in his mouth and smiled. “Yeah I do, it’s like shit but better.” Number 5 snickered at his brother's antics and they shared a short laugh. “Hey, what are you doing up here anyway? If Dad finds you he’ll make you teleport until you face plant again.”</p>
<p>Number 5 punched his arm. “Dad’s not gonna find out unless you rat on me, Four.” He lowered his voice threateningly as Number 4 rubbed at his arm where his brother had whacked him. “And I came up here to let you know that Mom pushed the naming ceremony back until tonight, since you’re gonna be busy with Dad for the rest of eternity.” Number 4 hung his head at the reminder of his father and his upcoming punishment. </p>
<p>“Not that we need real names anyway.” </p>
<p>Number 4 gawked, jaw dropping dramatically low. “What!?” he squeaked.</p>
<p>“I said, it’s not like we need-”</p>
<p>“Shut up, I heard what you said!” Number 4 elbowed his brother's side, ignoring the smack to his arm that he got in return. “How could you think that- do you really want to be called Number five forever?” </p>
<p>“Well, maybe not <em>Number</em> five, but just… Five.” Number 4 didn’t know what to say, he had thought that all his siblings shared his excitement over the naming ceremony. “Besides, I’d rather that than something dumb like Reginald Hargreeves Jr. You never know what Mom’ll come up with, with that bucket brain she has.” </p>
<p>“You’re so weird.” He blurted and Number 5- <em>Five</em>, scoffed.</p>
<p>“No, <em>you’re</em> the weird one, I’m the smart one.” </p>
<p>“Nah, Six is smarter than you-” Number 5’s hand was suddenly over top of his lips, firmly and effectively holding his trap shut while he continued to mumble incoherently despite Number 5s frantic hushing. </p>
<p>“Someone’s coming.” He whispered into Number 4s ear. “Catch you later, alligator.” And with that, he was gone again in the blink of an eye.</p>
<p>“Dipshit.” Number 4 cursed at the now empty space before his ears picked up on the telltale sounds of heavy footfalls coming his way. <em>Dad</em>. </p>
<p>Number 4 tried his very best not to flinch at his father's return, but the ghosts that followed the man were loud and relentless in their thirst for bloodshed and howls of pain. Number 4 unconsciously folded in on himself at the sudden onslaught of noise, shuddering as one floated through him as his father made his way to his seat across the table.</p>
<p>The man lit a match over the table and Number 4 automatically shied away from the light after being left in the dark for so long. Reginald used the small flame to ignite the tips of the thick candles on the table, creating an atmosphere even eerier than the pitch black. The candle light wavered as Number 4’s eyes adjusted and he stared directly into the fire as his father set his notebook on the table and flicked it open.</p>
<p>“Now, Number 4, where were we?” Reginald hummed as he turned through the pages of his notebook. Number 4 sat still and silent, unsure of whether or not he was supposed to answer the question. “You seem to be doing satisfactory with levitation… telekinesis needs improvement…” He mused out loud as he gently folded the book to a close and slid it off to the side, interlocking his fingers and resting them on the table. “I want you to summon a ghost.”</p>
<p>Number 4’s world plummeted. <em>Not the ghosts</em>. </p>
<p>Reginald stood from his seat at the table and began walking in a slow circle around the room, hands clasped behind his back. “There are spirits in this very room, no?”</p>
<p>Number 4 looked down at his fingers. “Yes.” He confirmed in a small voice. </p>
<p>“Very good. Now, tell me, are they speaking to you?” his father asked and Number 4 whined, <em>they never stopped</em>. “Number four! This idiotic fear of your own abilities is growing to be more than a thorn in my side. The answer to my question! <em>Now!</em>”</p>
<p>Number 4 snapped to attention, doing his best to avoid looking at the gaggle of ghosts begging for revenge and screaming his father's name. “They- they’re speaking. But not to me, not right now.” </p>
<p>“Then to whom are they attempting to commune with?” </p>
<p>“You, sir.” Number 4 answered, “They’re here for you.” </p>
<p>Reginald suddenly stopped his pacing, silent for a moment as he considered his next phrase. “Very well. Send them away.” </p>
<p>Number 4 was confused. “A-away, Dad?” </p>
<p>“Number 4, from what I have observed, your body is similar to a gateway. You are the in between.” Reginald began wandering the room until he reclaimed his seat across from the table once again. “The dead that you see are only the people of another plane of existence, just as you exist here, you also exist <em>there</em>.”</p>
<p>“You are the only one who has control over the people of the afterlife. You, and you alone can tell them where to go and what to do. Now, I ask a second time… send them away.” </p>
<p>Hundreds of questions were flipping through Number 4’s brain like a gust of wind through an open book. “I don’t know how…” He muttered, eyes downcast afraid of his father's reaction. </p>
<p>“Yet your capability denies this logic!” The man raised his voice as he slammed the notebook down onto the table, rattling the centerpiece of the Ouija Board. “Look at them.” Reginald didn’t clarify who he wanted Number 4 to look at, the words went unspoken and yet registered with clarity in his mind. “You can’t, can you? How pitiful.”</p>
<p>Number 4 felt tears well up in his eyes for the second time that day. His father was almost always disappointed in him and yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to complete even the simplest of tasks when regarding the ghosts during training. </p>
<p>“I see we have need to further amplify the aspects of your training. Very well.” Reginald stood, straightening out his waistcoat as he went. “Tonight we shall begin with your special training. I expect you outside my office dressed in uniform at ten o’clock sharp. Do you understand?” </p>
<p>Number 4 watched as the tall man made for the door and opened it, letting the light back inside and warmth into Number 4’s skin. “Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>“Then Number four, you are dismissed.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The naming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With the horrible day that he had had so far, he had nearly forgotten that it was his birthday.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have returned mwahahaha</p>
<p>If you've read my work before, you would know that I like to jump right into the angst, and well, this work is no exception. </p>
<p>WARNINGS for child abuse. It hits pretty hard in this chapter so please be careful. Klaus is put in the mausoleum for the first time, and Reggie is not nice about it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Number 4 exited the bathroom just in time to be tackled to the floor by an unseen force. </p>
<p>“Hey, get off!” He shouted as he squirmed, rolling onto his back in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Whoever had him was faster, pinning his wrists to the floor before he could make a maneuver to properly defend himself, and straddling his chest. </p>
<p>“Gotcha!” Number 2 announced, gleaming at his accomplishment as he sat on top of his smaller sibling.</p>
<p>Number 4 pouted as he stopped struggling against his brother. “That’s not fair! You were waiting for me outside the door.” </p>
<p>“Nuh, uh!” Number 2 shook his head with a smirk plastered on his face. “I go-got you fair and square. This is payback for this morning, you, you b-big ba-baby!” There was a mischievous glint in Number 2’s eyes that sent shivers down Number 4’s spine. </p>
<p>“No, wait!” Number 4 shouted as Number 2 released his hands from his wrists and aimed his fingers at his neck, realizing what was about to happen much too late. </p>
<p>Number 4 squealed at the assault, twisting and wiggling at the relentless tickling. “St- stop!” he gasped for air in between belly laughs. “I give… make it stop!” Number 4 flailed his arms wildly, grabbing at his brother's arms and trying to pry his hands away from his extremely ticklish neck. </p>
<p>“Not until you say s-so-sorry!” </p>
<p>Number 4s stomach was beginning to cramp as the neverending hysteria continued. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He hollered, hearing something next to his head clatter to the ground after his hands flickered minutely, triggered by the surge of emotion.</p>
<p>Number 2 let go of his neck and sat back on his heels, satisfied with his methods. “Good.” He stated, smug. </p>
<p>“Now get off me, butthead. You’re heavy.” Number 4 pushed his brother aside as he sat up, holding his aching stomach as he went. “Ugh, you squashed my guts…” Number 2 stood beside him and wandered to his left. “Now they’re angry, like Number Six’.” He pushed his hands together and set them in front of his stomach, wiggling his fingers to mimic Number 6’s tentacles. “Blehhhh…” </p>
<p>Number 2 laughed at his mime before he stopped to gasp. “Oh n-no, Four, you knocked down a pai-painting.” </p>
<p>Number 4 turned his head to see the damage dealt. “Whoops…” he cringed as he watched his brother gently pick it up and turn it over. “Is it broken?” </p>
<p>His big brother hummed as he examined it, brows furrowed in concentration and Number 4 came to peek over his shoulder. “I don’t th-think so. We should get Mom to check just to m-make sure.” </p>
<p>Number 4 felt uneasy about going to his mother. “What if she gets me in trouble again…” He whispered, imagining having to go through even more training with the ghosts as his punishment. “Dad’ll make me talk to the ghosts, Two. I don’t wanna talk to the ghosts.” </p>
<p>Number 2 smiled, pressed lipped and dimples showing. “Mom won’t tell if I ask h-her not to.” His brother settled a cautious hand on his shoulder and pushed him downwards until his feet were touching the floor again. Number 4 hadn’t even noticed that he had started to levitate in his anxiety, feet outlined in a ring of blue light dissipating into the air as he reunited with gravity. “I pr-pro-promise.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They found their mother embroidering in the upstairs alcove, humming a soft tune under her breath as she performed her needlework with the utmost precision and delicacy that only a machine could reproduce. </p>
<p>Number 4 watched as his mother sat up straighter in her seat before turning and spotting a pair of her children walking towards her, one carrying a painting and the other fidgeting with the hem of his uniform jacket. </p>
<p>“Hello, dear children.” She greeted, smiling kindly, flashing two rows of perfect teeth, outlined by  lips that were painted a gorgeous bright red. Painted lips that Number 4 always caught himself admiring. “Were you not tasked with completing your historical studies?” </p>
<p>“Mo-mom, we, uh…” Number 2 started before sharing a look with Number 4. </p>
<p>“I accidentally knocked a painting down...” Number 4 admitted before his brother could finish for him. “And we kinda sorta need it fixed.” </p>
<p>“Before Dad notices.” Number 2 added, both boys nodding in agreement as their mother took the painting for examination. </p>
<p>“Why, you silly boys.” Grace started as she gently ran her fingers down the frame. “This painting is undamaged, except for the fact that it needs a good dusting.” The two boys both relaxed at the statement, Number 2 reaching to pat at Number 4’s back comfortingly. “I will have this fixed up in a jiffy, and before your father notices, of course.” She suddenly paused to frown as she looked over Number 4’s face, concern knitting her eyebrows together tightly. </p>
<p>She set the painting down into her lap, reaching out with a hand to cup Number 4s cheek. “Oh, you poor thing. Does it hurt much? I can help with the pain.” </p>
<p>Her synthetic skin was cool against his face as she stroked her thumb up and down in a gesture of comfort. Number 4 took her hand and pulled it away from his face with a sad smile. He knew what she saw there on his cheek, he had seen it too when he had looked in the bathroom mirror. A bruise, from when his father had struck him earlier. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m okay Mom. I swear.” </p>
<p>Bruises were a fairly common occurrence. Though it was painfully obvious that Reginald seemed to knock Number 4 around the most out of the rest of the children- Number 7 resting on the opposite end of the spectrum- Number 4 didn’t mind. As long as his siblings weren't on the receiving end of their fathers wrath, he could manage just fine.</p>
<p>Their mother's eyes dimmed as she processed Number 4’s statement, head tilting downwards for a moment before she straightened again and replaced her frown with a new smile. </p>
<p>“Would you look at the time, darlings!” She stood, setting the painting and her embroidery into the now empty chair. “I believe it is time you all received your birthday gifts.” </p>
<p>Number 4 felt a sensation akin to a zing race along all his nerves as he pulled his knees to his chest and drifted in midair with a squeak of excitement, feet aglow. Mothers eyes popped open wide at the unusual sight, and Number 2 tugged on his sleeve to pull him back down to earth. </p>
<p>With the horrible day that he had had so far, he had nearly forgotten that it was his birthday. </p>
<p>“My goodness, Number four! You make improvements everyday.” Grace applauded as she rested her hands on both his and Number 2s shoulders, gently spinning them around and guiding them down the hall with her. Number 2 slipped a hand into the silky fabric of her skirt as they walked together, an old habit he had had since they were babies, and Number 4 skipped happily in front of them. </p>
<p>Their mother stopped at the end of the hallway, above the staircase that led to the front foyer. “You two scamper on without me. Tell your siblings to come to the living room for the ceremony. I will be waiting for you there with your father.” </p>
<p>Confident that her children would do as she said, their mother gave them one last perfect smile before turning to go down the stairs, no doubt off to find Reginald. </p>
<p>Number 2 shot Number 4 another one of his trademark smirks that were often sent in Number 1s direction. An expression that reeked of challenge. “Race, you!” He shouted before bolting up the stairs, giving himself the unfair advantage.</p>
<p>“Two, you, yo-you…” Number 4 struggled to find the right word as he chased after his brother. “You dipshit!” </p>
<p>Number 2 didn’t stop after he reached the top of the stairs, taking off down the hallway that led to the bedrooms and banging on the closed doors as he went, Number 4 straggling behind him and passing by the bedrooms as the doors opened to reveal unimpressed siblings. </p>
<p>“It’s naming time, bitches!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They stood in order, one through seven as they awaited for the arrival of their Mother and Father. Pogo made his way down the line, adjusting the folds on their socks and smoothing creases in their jackets as they held the military stance their father had taught them to stand in. </p>
<p>Number 4 hated standing the way Reginald had trained him to, preferring to slouch or lean on something close by. Something like a sibling, even though they weren’t always around. Which was weird, cause he had so many.</p>
<p>When Pogo reached him, the chimp licked a finger and rubbed at the sore spot on Number 4s face, as if he could smudge it off. “Um, Pogo? That’s not dirt.” Number 4 remarked, bouncing his knee absentmindedly as he grew impatient waiting for Grace.</p>
<p>The butler pulled away with a remorseful expression in his eyes. “I see, Master four. Please, forgive me.”  </p>
<p>Number 4 only smiled as Pogo brushed off the shoulders of his jacket, and after completing his inspection moved on to Number 5... Number 5 who looked more ticked than usual. The boy next to him was staring holes into the floor with the force of his glare, shoulders uncomfortably tense and picking his nails where his hands rested clasped behind his back. </p>
<p>Number 4 didn’t need to ask what was wrong, thinking back to the conversation that the two had had earlier in the day. </p>
<p>For Number 5’s sake, he really hoped he didn’t get named Reginald Hargreeves Jr.</p>
<p>The children noted the sound of their father descending the stairs in the foyer, and stood impossibly straighter at the sight of their leader. Grace followed close behind her master.</p>
<p>“Now, children. What is about to take place here in this very room is a ceremony that will grant each of you the gift of identity. Take it with dignity.” Reginald didn’t sound happy as he spoke, stepping down the line at a slow pace taking in the sight of his academy members. He stopped in front of Number 4. “I want you to remember this day, children.”</p>
<p>He stepped away from the siblings and took a seat in his great armchair by the fireplace, opening the floor for Grace to take control. </p>
<p>She stepped up to Number 1 and touched her fingers to the blondes shoulder, leaning forward slightly to close the gap in their heights. “My dearest, Number One. I gift you the name of Luther Hargreeves.” Luther puffed his chest out, a sign that the boy approved of the name. </p>
<p>Grace then sidestepped so she was standing in front of Number 2. “Number Two,” she started, resting a hand on her son's proud face. “I will give you the name, Diego Hargreeves.” </p>
<p>She moved on to Number 3, who stood solemn though Number 4 knew it was a face she put on only in front of their father. “Number Three. You will be known as Allison Hargreeves.” Number 4 watched the corners of her lips quirk slightly, mask threatening to break under the strain of her glee.</p>
<p>Finally Grace turned to Number 4. She held out a hand and he took it, beaming with excitement. “Number four, I gift you the name of Klaus Hargreeves.”  </p>
<p>“<em>Klaus</em>...” A ghost whispered nearby, causing his smile to waver at the sound. </p>
<p>“Number five…” Grace had already moved down the line by the time Klaus got over the miniature distraction. “I am going to give you the name-” Their mother suddenly cut herself off as Number 5 lunged forward and disappeared with a popping sound. </p>
<p>“Hey! He can’t do that!” Luther stepped forward, looking furious while the rest of the children traded surprised glances with each other. Grace turned to her maker for an answer, obviously unsure of how to continue. </p>
<p>“Number one!” Reginald snapped back at the outburst. “Number five has made his own decision.” Reginald eyed the children from his seat by the fire as he spoke, daring another to step out of line or face the punishment. “Carry on with the rest of the ceremony.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rest of the ceremony carried on without event, Number 5 never returning though Klaus didn’t expect him to. He listened intently as Number 6 received the name of Ben and Number 7 got the name Vanya. Dismissed from training for a whole hour before curfew they could do whatever they wanted. </p>
<p>Klaus was ecstatic. Today he turned eight years old, and today he got a name. </p>
<p>As soon as their father left the room with Pogo, Luther followed suit, stomping angrily.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” Allison asked, trotting to catch up with him when he stopped to turn around. </p>
<p>“I’m going to go find Five. If Dad won’t teach him a lesson, I will.” </p>
<p>Diego crossed his arms over his chest, scowl in place of the dimples he flashed Klaus with earlier. “And what makes you think he’s go-gonna listen to you?” Diego taunted and Luther glared, stepping away from Allison and closer to Number 2. </p>
<p>Vanya stepped out from her place in the shadows. “He’s right… Five won’t even listen to Dad.” </p>
<p>Luther shot her a look that shut her up immediately before turning back to face Diego. “I make the orders when Dad’s not around. Last time I checked I was still number one, and you…” Luther was now close enough to the other boy that he shoved a finger into his chest menacingly. “...were lousy nu-nu-number two.” He mocked, looking satisfied when Diego's face went beat red. </p>
<p>Klaus enjoyed it when his brothers squabbled from time to time, but after a while it tended to get annoying, and worse <em>boring</em>. </p>
<p>The living room was starting to become cluttered with ghosts. “<em>Klaus</em>” They whispered, chattering about his new name as if it were hot celebrity gossip. </p>
<p>“Stop, stop!” Vanya shouted as Diego threw a punch, and Allison pulled Luther away to break up the fight. </p>
<p>Klaus rolled his eyes. Distraction over. </p>
<p>“Come on, Ben.” He snagged his brother's wrist and started walking, Ben following behind him happily. “Were going to find Five.” </p>
<p>“Hey!” Diego shouted and ran after the pair as they left, Allison and Luther shrugging and trailing after him as well. “I’m coming too.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They found Five perched on his desk, sloppily scribbling an equation onto the highest part of his bedroom wall that he could reach. It was a sad height, Klaus noted. Five really was very tiny.</p>
<p>Klaus opened his mouth in greeting but was cut off as Luther barged into the small bedroom behind him. “Five, what the hell?” </p>
<p>The room filled up with all the siblings, minus Vanya, and Klaus flopped onto Fives bed to make room, bouncing on the bedsprings and waving Diego and Ben over to sit next to him. He rested his head on Ben's shoulder, smiling when the smaller boy didn’t shrug him off.</p>
<p>Five didn’t stop writing on the wall. “Using our big boy words, are we Number One.” </p>
<p>The blonde boy bristled. “That’s not my name anymore.” </p>
<p>“Oh, sorry, <em>Luther</em>.” Five mocked in a strange voice, causing Klaus to giggle. </p>
<p>Luther looked ready to pounce, and Klaus believed he might have if Allison hadn’t stuck her arm out in time to stop him. Five sighed as he finally stopped writing and set his chalk down onto the desk, dusting off his hands and stepping down onto the chair and then down onto the floor. </p>
<p>“I think we were all wondering, why you left?” Ben asked when the room had been silent for longer than what was comfortable. “You were about to get a name.” </p>
<p>Five shrugged, hands in his pockets. “I already have one.”</p>
<p>“What, Number five? That’s not a n-name.” Diego rolled his eyes as Five narrowed his. </p>
<p>“Actually, he would like to just be called Five!” Klaus piped in, louder than necessary to hear himself over the noise in his head, earning himself a chorus of unimpressed looks. “No number.”</p>
<p>“<em>Klaus</em>.” A ghost brushed against his arm, catching him off guard and causing him to flinch, disguising the movement as an itch when Ben raised his eyebrows questioningly. </p>
<p>“Five Hargreeves? That’s a little dumb.” Allison berated, hands on her hips.</p>
<p>Luther pushed in front of her before Five could retaliate. “Number five, I order you to go see Mother and get a name.” He puffed his chest out as he spoke, folding his arms across his torso and flexing his muscles. Klaus found himself drawing back into Ben's side- Luther may be a child, but he still sounded a lot like Dad when he gave orders. </p>
<p>Five pulled himself up tall, chin poised in an effort to grow the few extra inches he needed to look Luther in the eye. “No.” He seethed, unintimidated. </p>
<p>Luther rocked back on his heels. “Don’t make me go get Dad.” </p>
<p>“Shove. It up. Your <em>ass</em>, Luther.” </p>
<p>Luther's face curled into a snarl and he lunged at Five, attempting to grab his brother but the boy was already gone. Disappearing in the blink of an eye with his signature popping noise. Luther looked ready to explode.</p>
<p>Klaus stood. “Aw, look what you did! You made him leave again!” He complained but Luther didn’t stay to hear Klaus out, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. </p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter.” Allison started. “He probably went off to sulk with Number Seven.” </p>
<p>“Vanya.” Klaus corrected her, wandering towards Fives desk, trying to see what his brother had been writing. It just looked like an incoherent attempt at solving a math equation. </p>
<p>Allison raised an eyebrow. “What?” </p>
<p>“Her name. It’s Vanya.” Ben finished for Klaus as he came to stand beside him also gazing upwards at the chalk marks smudged into the wall. </p>
<p>Their sister rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Was all she said as she exited the bedroom as well, probably going to look for Number 1 before he went on a mad rampage looking for Five. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Curfew had struck but Klaus couldn’t sleep. Though the spirits were louder at night, it was more than them that were keeping him up. He couldn’t deny the anxiety festering under his ribcage when his thoughts drifted to the special training that his father was going to conduct later that night. </p>
<p>Klaus didn’t care whether or not his father was proud of him, though it would be nice to hear something other than “You’re useless” or “My greatest disappointment” from time to time. No matter how hard Klaus tried, it seemed impossible to accomplish anything with the overwhelming fear of using his powers. Even for good, Klaus was always worried that he’d get hurt or worse, that he’d hurt someone else. </p>
<p>It was more than the ghosts that scared him. </p>
<p>His telekinetic powers were finicky at best, and when the rare opportunity arose when Klaus could actually bend them to his will, the surge of power that flooded through his veins was overwhelming. His father pushed him to control them, to strengthen his mind and forge his will but Number 4 was afraid.</p>
<p>He was terrified of what he could do.</p>
<p>Mother had said that most people would feel good if they had been granted such extraordinary powers, but Klaus… Klaus didn’t like it one bit. </p>
<p>“Mother, make them <em>stop</em>...” He had moaned into her dress, tears dampening the fabric as his father stood in the doorway, scribbling points into that damned notebook of his. Number 4 had broken down in the middle of the night, six years old, screaming bloody murder and waking every soul in the house. The ghosts had been screeching so loud that his ears had started to bleed. “They’re so loud… they won’t be quiet... I want them to- I want…” </p>
<p>“What do you want, dearest?” Grace had cooed, smoothing his dark curls away from his tear stained face. In the thralls of his struggles his bedroom had been destroyed, telekinesis acting up with the flare up of emotion. </p>
<p>“I want to be ordinary.” </p>
<p>His room had since been soundproofed to prevent him from disturbing his sleeping family, but Klaus had found other ways of gaining the distraction he needed. If his father didn’t have him hooked up to the machine at night, and if the ghosts were particularly bad, Klaus would slip out of his room and sneak into one of his siblings bedrooms, snuggling under the covers with them. Sometimes he went to Ben, sometimes he went to Five, and sometimes he went to Diego, though any sibling would suffice. </p>
<p>“<em>Please, avenge me. My son is my murderer, set things right…</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>You filthy brat! Why do you live while I suffer!?</em></p>
<p>“<em>Where am I? Please, I don’t know where I am… I don’t know where I am...</em>” </p>
<p>Klaus rolled over in his bed and buried his face into his pillow, groaning with frustration. “Go away, go away, go away…” </p>
<p>With his face covered in the plush of his pillow, he almost missed the soft knock on his door. Klaus sat upright with a gasp, whipping his head around to check the alarm clock set on his dresser, only to see that it had fallen down and unplugged itself. </p>
<p>Klaus grimaced as he got to his feet and grabbed his jacket that he’d thrown onto the chair by his desk, shrugging it over his vest as he went to open the door. </p>
<p><em>Pogo</em>. </p>
<p>“Master Klaus.” The monkey started. </p>
<p>“<em>Klaus… Klaus…</em>” the ghosts heard his new name as it was spoken and echoed it to each other with interest, causing Number 4 to avert Pogo’s gaze.</p>
<p>“I am here to inform you that your father was expecting you outside of his office three minutes ago.” Pogo’s eyes trailed upwards to Klaus’ hair, no doubt quite dishevelled, which the boy hastily flattened back out. </p>
<p>“Sorry, Pogo. I lost track of time.” Klaus admitted, lowering his voice as he stepped out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind himself. </p>
<p>“Not to worry.” Pogo placed a hand on the small of his back, ushering him forward. “I am here to escort you to the vehicle. He is waiting for you out front.” </p>
<p>Klaus frowned as he walked beside the butler. “D’you mean the car?” He asked, confused. He had thought that he’d be going back to his regular training area. “Are we going for a drive?” </p>
<p>Pogo seemed hesitant to reply. “Yes. Your father has deemed it best to conduct your training in an environment more suitable to your abilities, which brings us elsewhere outside of the academy.”</p>
<p>Klaus nodded, curious but excited. It wasn’t often he got to go for car rides since everything that he needed to survive was already provided to him through the academy. </p>
<p>Reginald was waiting for them, standing leisurely in front of the parked car, exhaust fumes from the running engine polluting the night air. It was a cold october night and Klaus wrapped his arms around himself, wishing that the uniform he was constantly forced to wear was warmer. </p>
<p>Pogo opened the door to the back seat and helped Klaus climb inside as Reginald slid into the seat behind the wheel. Once he was certain that Klaus was secure and comfortable in the back, Pogo then eased himself into the front seat beside his master. </p>
<p>Reginald drove, and Klaus stayed silent, pondering where they could be going while simultaneously trying to keep himself awake. He rested his head against the cool window pane, watching the glass fog with every exhale of breath and glisten under the light of the passing streetlamps. </p>
<p>By the time they reached their destination, Klaus was nearly asleep. The rattle and creak of the front door being opened, and the abrupt slam of it being shut once again startled him into an upright position. Klaus rubbed at his eyes blearily as his door was opened for him and he slid out into the cool night.</p>
<p>What he saw when he opened his eyes made his face drain of all colour and stole his breath out of his lungs. His fingers went numb as they fell to his side, and his jaw dropped in complete horror. </p>
<p>He was standing in the middle of a graveyard and all around him were hundreds of the most horrid and disembodied ghosts he had ever seen. They wailed and wandered, stared and congregated around him, drawn like sharks to the scent of his fear.</p>
<p>“Number four, you will follow me.” </p>
<p>Klaus could barely see his father's retreating form through the sheet of ghosts as thick as fog as he trailed behind his father, stumbling and swerving to avoid the chill of passing through one of the many phantoms that plagued this plot of land. </p>
<p>Pogo settled a guiding hand on his shoulder as Klaus nearly tripped in his wild maneuvers as his father only led him deeper into the graveyard. Number 4’s breath was stolen from fear as his eyes darted frantically from spirit to spirit, many missing limbs and some even missing their heads, innards in their arms and bruises on their necks. </p>
<p>His father came to a halt in front of a small stone structure and Klaus wandered to his side as Pogo left to open the doors. </p>
<p><em>Darkness</em>. It seemed to stretch out in front of his eyes, longer, and longer, deeper, and all the more sinister, inviting him inside with malintent. The mouth of a beast. </p>
<p>Reginald gestured to the opened mausoleum. “Well Number Four..?”</p>
<p>Suddenly everything clicked into place. </p>
<p><em>No way</em> Klaus was going in there.</p>
<p>So he bolted… or, tried to, but his father was quicker, anticipating this reaction and preventing his escape by catching the boy by the collar of his shirt, choking Klaus as he tried to flee. </p>
<p>“Just as I expected.” Reginald sighed, unflinching as Klaus continued to fight the grip on his shirt. “A coward to the very end.” </p>
<p>“No, no, please don’t put me in there!” Klaus cried, tears spilling down his cheeks as his father released his hold on his shirt, grabbing his bicep instead, grip like a vice. “Dad, please!” </p>
<p>His father began to drag him forward, and Klaus never relented on his struggles to put up a fight, digging in his heels and scratching at his father's gloved hands. “Resistance if futile, Number Four. You will learn to overcome this pathetic fear of your own abilities, lest you will suffer the consequences.”</p>
<p>Klaus was pulled closer and closer to the entrance of the structure. “No, no, no, <em>please</em>!” He shouted, voice breaking. </p>
<p>Reginald tossed Klaus into the mausoleum without a hint of remorse, simply watching as his son rolled down the steps into the building and landed in a heap on the floor, scraping his palms and cutting open his knees as he descended. </p>
<p>Klaus gasped with pain as he pulled himself onto his hands and knees, body shaking like a leaf in the wind. “Dad…” </p>
<p>“A man who's been through bitter experiences enjoys even his sufferings after a time.” Reginald quoted as he stepped back and gestured to Pogo who had stood silent throughout the entire ordeal. </p>
<p>“Dad, please, no…” He cried, utterly desperate as he climbed to his feet and ran to the door only to have it slammed in his face, bolts clicking into place, locking him inside for good. “No, no…” </p>
<p>“<em>Klaus!</em>” a voice behind him screamed and Klaus threw his fists against the door in panic. </p>
<p>“Let me out! Dad, please let me out!” He hiccuped through tears, voice scratching and straining as he continued to holler. </p>
<p>“<em>Klaus…</em>”</p>
<p>He kicked at the door, tiny legs jarring at the abuse. “Five! B-Ben, help me!” </p>
<p>A ghost screamed and Klaus tore at his ears in a blind attempt to make the noise stop. Giving up on the door, he turned and ran for the windows, climbing on top of the tomb in the back to reach its height and sobbing when he realized that there were bars in place to prevent him from escaping. </p>
<p>The screaming only grew louder and Klaus fell to his already bruised knees, pounding the sides of his head with his small fists, longing for the noise to stop. He collapsed onto his back, curling in on himself as the ghosts continued their relentless attack on his senses. </p>
<p>He lay there for hours, crying and screaming until he lost his voice. Shivering in the cold until he couldn’t anymore, no one came for him. </p>
<p>No one but the ghosts.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me: well, we know that Klaus is eight years old when he visits the mausoleum for the first time<br/>angsty me: put him in there right on his birthday</p>
<p>leave a comment!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you enjoyed please leave kudos or even better, a comment! </p>
<p>come find me on tumblr @jaybaybay-01</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>